“We’re installing a new system,”
said the operator. “The old apparatus wasn’t
satisfactory and it’s being changed throughout.”

“Then you-you can’t send a message—­possibly?”

“Nothing doing until the next trip.”

Kirk strode forward and stared disconsolately down
upon the freight deck in a vain endeavor to collect
his thoughts. How in the devil had he managed
to get into this mess? Could it be one of Higgins’s
senseless pranks, or was there something deeper, more
sinister behind it? He recalled the incidents
of that wild night and began to have a disquieting
doubt. Did that chance meeting with the chap
from St. Louis have anything to do with his presence
here, or had he really decided in some foolish, drunken
whim to take a trip to Central America? He hardly
knew what to think or where to begin his reasoning.
He recollected that Jefferson Locke had not impressed
him very favorably at the start, and that his behavior
upon the appearance of the plain-clothes man had not
improved that first impression. It seemed certain
that he must have had his hand in this affair, else
how would Anthony now find himself in possession of
his ticket? What had become of the rightful occupant
of Suite A? What had become of Higgins’s
unfortunate victim with the cracked head? What
did it all signify? Kirk sighed disconsolately
and gave it up. In five days more he would learn
the answer, anyhow, for there must be a cable from
Panama to the States. Meanwhile, he supposed he
must reconcile himself to his condition. But
it was tough to have two weeks of valuable time snatched
out of his eventful life. It was maddening.

IV

NEW ACQUAINTANCES

The sound of a bugle, which Kirk interpreted as an
invitation to breakfast, reminded him that he was
famished, and he lost no time in going below.
Upon his appearance the steward made it plain to him
in some subtle manner that the occupant of Suite A
needed nothing beyond the mere possession of those
magnificent quarters to insure the most considerate
treatment. Kirk was placed at the captain’s
table, where his hunger was soon appeased, and his
outlook grew more cheerful with the complete restoration
of bodily comfort. Feeling somewhat less dissatisfied
with his surroundings, he began to study the faces
of his fellow-passengers.

“Getting your sea legs, Mr. Locke?” inquired
the man at his right.

“My name is Anthony.”

“I beg your pardon! The passenger list
said—­”

“That was a mistake.”

“My name is Stein. May I ask where you
are bound for?”

“I think the place is Panama.”

“Going to work on the canal?”

“What canal? Oh, of course! Now I
remember hearing something about a Panama Canal.
Is that where it is?”